All's Well That Ends Well

Lafeu. They say miracles are past; and we have our
philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar,
things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that
we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves
into seeming knowledge, when we should submit
895ourselves to an unknown fear.

Parolles. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath
shot out in our latter times.

Lafeu. In a most weak—
[pausing]925and debile minister, great power, great
transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a
further use to be made than alone the recovery of
the king, as to be—
[pausing]930generally thankful.

Parolles. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king.
[Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and]PAROLLES retire]

Lafeu. Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the
935better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's
able to lead her a coranto.

King of France. Go, call before me all the lords in court.
940Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive
The confirmation of my promised gift,
Which but attends thy naming.
945[Enter three or four Lords]Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice
I have to use: thy frank election make;
950Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.

Helena. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but one!

Lafeu. I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture,
My mouth no more were broken than these boys',
955And writ as little beard.

King of France. Peruse them well:
Not one of those but had a noble father.

Helena. Gentlemen,
Heaven hath through me restored the king to health.
960

Helena. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest,
That I protest I simply am a maid.
Please it your majesty, I have done already:
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me,
965'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We'll ne'er come there again.'

King of France. Make choice; and, see,
Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.
970

Helena. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly,
And to imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit?

Bertram. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
Must answer for your raising? I know her well:
She had her breeding at my father's charge.
1015A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain
Rather corrupt me ever!

King of France. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
1020Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be
All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:
1025From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone
Is good without a name. Vileness is so:
1030The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir,
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born
1035And is not like the sire: honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb
1040Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue and she
Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.
1045

King of France. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.

Helena. That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad:
Let the rest go.

King of France. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat,
1050I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift;
That dost in vile misprision shackle up
My love and her desert; that canst not dream,
We, poising us in her defective scale,
1055Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour where
We please to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt:
Obey our will, which travails in thy good:
Believe not thy disdain, but presently
1060Do thine own fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy duty owes and our power claims;
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
Into the staggers and the careless lapse
Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate
1065Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer.

Bertram. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes: when I consider
What great creation and what dole of honour
1070Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the king; who, so ennobled,
Is as 'twere born so.

King of France. Take her by the hand,
1075And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoise, if not to thy estate
A balance more replete.

King of France. Good fortune and the favour of the king
1080Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony
Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief,
And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her,
1085Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

Lafeu. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty
wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy
1105travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the
bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from
believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I
have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care
not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and
1110that thou't scarce worth.

Lafeu. Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at
a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound
1125in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is
to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold
my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge,
that I may say in the default, he is a man I know.

Lafeu. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor
doing eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by
thee, in what motion age will give me leave.

[Exit]

Parolles. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off
1135me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must
be patient; there is no fettering of authority.
I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with
any convenience, an he were double and double a
lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I
1140would of—I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.

[Re-enter LAFEU]

Lafeu. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news
for you: you have a new mistress.

Parolles. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make
1145some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good
lord: whom I serve above is my master.

Lafeu. The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou
1150garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of
sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set
thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine
honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat
thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and
1155every man should beat thee: I think thou wast
created for men to breathe themselves upon thee.

Lafeu. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a
kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and
1160no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords
and honourable personages than the commission of your
birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not
worth another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you.

[Exit]

Parolles. Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good;
let it be concealed awhile.

Bertram. O my Parolles, they have married me!
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
1175

Parolles. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
The tread of a man's foot: to the wars!

Bertram. There's letters from my mother: what the import is,
I know not yet.

Parolles. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
1180He wears his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions
1185France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades;
Therefore, to the war!

Bertram. It shall be so: I'll send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled; write to the king
1190That which I durst not speak; his present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife
To the dark house and the detested wife.

Bertram. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me.
I'll send her straight away: to-morrow
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow.

Parolles. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard:
A young man married is a man that's marr'd:
1200Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go:
The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so.